The Leeches of Nowhere: Lines Never Knotted
by Jungle Wildling
Summary: In the backwater town of Wickenburg, there's a power struggle between the resident Anarch, the intruding Sabbat, and a dysfuntional Camarila. In the middle of all this are four schmuck neonates that haven't got a clue.
1. First Thing's First

Even though most folks don't have much of disclaimer or warning to speak of, I want to make sure my bases are covered.

DISCLAIMER: I, Jungle Wildling, being of deranged mind and spirit, do not have any sort of connection or affiliation to White Wolf, Inc., nor anything or anyone associated with them. _Vampire: The Masquerade_ is property of White Wolf, Inc. and I do not have any form of rights or claim to it. In laymen's terms: NOT! MINE! Mm'kay? I would also like to emphasize the setting, events, and characters mentioned in this work are purely fictional and partially original (I say partially original because even though I made it up, it's still based of a pen and paper game that is not legally mine). With all that out of the way, I am now rubber to glue.

WARNING: This story contains instances of fowl language, violence, and things in general that make some people feel icky. If you are one of those people, please do not read this. Please also keep in mind that as this story evolves this warning may become more or less severe since I'm making this up as I go along and not really sure where this is going. You have now been fully warned, and I hold no responsibility for the implosion of your skull.


	2. Chapter 1: Mama Gator

**Chapter 1: Mama Gator**

Ryan's frigid body was drowning in a black lagoon of foreign sensations, and they swelled with intensity as consciousness took hold of his psyche. He felt every inch of his flesh prickle as if a ghostly hand had gently swiped a finger down his spine, and allowed the slightly painful tingling feeling to wash over his entire frame. His internal organs where frighteningly still: the heart did not pump; the stomach did not turn; the lungs did not expand or contract. Everything just seemed so eerie, so wrong, so…lifeless…

…Then the voices came…

_Hehehehe…_

_Yesssss…_

_Hush…_

"Can you explain this to me?"

_How could you…?_

"Mr. McCormick, sir, I do declare that you should know how I operate by now."

_Rust and blood on the control panel…_

"Dear sweet Caine, woman! You did it again?!"

_Knife loves the back…_

"Now, Mr. McCormick, sir, there is no need to raise a temper."

"Temper? Temper?! Damn it woman, you ain't even seen my temper!"

_Lick the star…_

_Kiss the flame…_

"What do I have to do to get through your thick head that it is not okay to go around stealing other peoples kids?!"

_Cradle to grave…_

"Steal! Why, shame on you, Mr. McCormick! I am proud to say I have never stolen anything in my life or my death."

_To be…_

"Nodda penny, nodda kiss, and most certainly nodda youngin'!"

_Two bee…_

"Then what the hell do you call it?"

_Kahhh…_

_Yessss…_

"Deliverance."

_Tie the lines never knotted…_

"Oh, for the love of—BAH! You now what? Fine! Go along with your undeath recklessly, "delivering" every childe in the county area!"

_Wicked little town…_

"See how much I care when you get your head loped off because of your damned need to mother!"

_And the smile was on the crocodile…_

_Gahahahaha….!_

There was an angry slamming of a door—

_Ka-boom, ka-boom…_

_Pop went the weasel…_

—and the sound of heavy footstep clumping over to Ryan. The awakening man felt a large weight gently settle upon the rag tag mattress he laid upon, causing it to sag severely with a wheezing groan. A bit frightened of what sight would behold him, Ryan slowly opened his deep brown eyes, anxiety dancing in his useless lump of a heart. The being before him was a monster, yet, oddly enough, he was not afraid.

_Mama Gator…_

She was an amazingly plump black woman of her late fifties. Her salt and pepper hair barely touched her shoulders, and was course with leaves and swamp moss tangled in it. Her hands where webbed and long claws extended from her thick fingers. Her face and arms had patches of pinkish-white scales that had a slimy sheen to them. She smiled pleasantly at Ryan, revealing a row of sharp teeth like that of a piranha. The most defining feature on this hefty lady was her eyes: they were a solid yellow, and, despite the warm look on her face, they revealed with out shame she was predator. So may monstrous features, and Ryan was not afraid; the voices told him not to.

"Mama Gator."

The words came out of Ryan's mouth smoothly and without thought, almost as if someone had planted them there knowing this encounter would occur. To this, the alligator woman let lose a hearty cackle with a fond snort at the end.

"Yes, childe, indeed I am," the scaly crone commented sweetly in a strong southern accent, "You know, youngin', they say it's a wise childe that knows its sire, and I should now that such wisdom would come from a childe of Malkav so quickly."

_He sleeps…_

_He lives…_

_He's here…_

The beastly lady warped her chubby arms around Ryan's torso, and lifted him up into a sitting position to cradle him like an infant. In comparison to her, he was like a rag doll that had been subjected to ungodly abuse at the hands of a four year old: His frame was sickly slender and was riddled with sores and welts he had inflected upon himself. His slightly gray skin was tainted a putrid blue. His eyes sunk back into head making them appear to be nothing more than black circles. His dirty blonde hair was untamed and tuffs of it puffed out in all directions.

"My, my, childe! You is so scrawny," the motherly monster teased kindheartedly, "You must be stared half to death."

_Too late…_

_Death, thy name is…_

Ryan watched carefully as she brought a massive arm to her full lips and tore into her flesh with her razorblade teeth. Crimson life oozed poetically from the open wound, and Ryan suddenly felt a painful passion wash over him. Something vicious stirred deep inside his inert gut, and his gums ached with excitement.

_Take it…_

As soon as the alligator woman neared her wrist to his face, Ryan seized the lovely gift with an savage snarl. A rush of fulfillment coursed through his shell of a body and gave him pleasure that seemed impossible. It was like a happy pill forged by the gods that gave a big middle finger to Cloud 9 and shot you straight to Cloud 251. He relished every bit of blood that flowed down his dry esophagus, and he greedily took as much as he could.

Seeing that her childe lacked little, if any, self-control, the dark skinned crone drew her arm away from the fledgling when she felt he had enough, warranting a hissing whimper of protest. To this, the portly woman merely gave another belly laugh. The warm smile upon her face continued to glow brightly, but this time it held a shady plotting element to it.

_Tie the lines…_

_Knot the lines…_

"Now, darlin', you be a good boy for your Mama Gator," the scaly lady cooed. She then cackled for a third time before gleefully proclaiming, "Oh, I do indeed like that title that you gave me. Even though my days as a house slave is long gone, I usually just have childer call me Mammy, but Mama Gator will do just fine."

The motherly African American then helped Ryan to his feet and gave him a small push that caused him to wobble like a stack of pancakes.

_Strawberry syrup…_

_Yessss…_

"Now, you listen good and you listen hard to old Jeramima Harper," the reptilian crone continued on, indicating that this Jeramima Harper was indeed herself, "You go on and you do some s'ploring; figure out how things are. And don't be scared of what you may find. Trust me, you're in the safest place around."

_Nest of rats…_

Ms. Harper then rose up from her spot on the mattress, making it grunt in relief. After straightening up her dirty apron and long striped dress, she waddled over to a hole in the filthy wall and prepared to crawl into to it, but not before commenting to Ryan: "I'll be back soon for you and your brothers, sweet pea. There's something very special planned for you four."

_Royal court…_

_Make a bow…_

With that, Jeramima disappeared into the tunnel with animalistic grace, impressing Ryan that she could fit into such a space so easily what with her gigantic girth. Now all alone, the new vampire looked over to the other side of dank, grimy room and spotted the same ramshackle door that had slammed earlier. Two motives drove Ryan to walk through it and do as his Mama Gator said: One, there weren't any better alternatives available to him; and two, for a reason beyond his grasp, he felt obligated to obey her.

_The end begins…_

_Ahhhh…_

_Yessss…_

_Shhhhh…_


	3. Chapter 2: Nest of Rats

**Chapter 2: Nest of Rats**

_Gahahaha…!_

_Shushhhh…_

_Never…_

Ryan had wandered about aimlessly as Jeramima advised to do for roughly an hour or so. He had learned swiftly of many things during his wanderings, as the alligator woman had intended, the first of which being that he was deep in the bowls of the sewer system and in the nest of the Nosferatu. Mama Gator's beastly features paled in comparison to one of these not so lovely Kindred, but Ryan found that most of them held valuable information in their rotting skulls if he could poke the right buttons. This was easier said than done since many of these sewer rats seemed to hold some sort of bias against him.

_Belong…_

_Begotten…_

Whenever Ryan opened his mouth, the Nosferatu always had something to say about the jumble of words that came out. A small percentage seemed amused by him, but of them most grew huffy to some degree. The most piqued ones went as far as to end the conversation right there, grumbling resentment for something they labeled Malkavian. Ryan did not fully understand what this term meant, but it managed to touch the core of his undead being in both a sentimental and eerie way. Another familiar yet foreign word the Nosferatu though around in spite was Sabbat, which filled the fledgling with unexplainable terror. The voices did not help ease his tension, either.

_Forever theirs…_

_No escape…_

_Hehehehe…_

After numerous let downs, Ryan finally encountered a Nossie that was willing to talk. She was a petite lass, no more than five foot, with timid, white, glowing eyes that gave her an odd cuteness even though they were set much too far a part . What little white wisps of hair she had left on her flaking brownish-yellow cranium she keep in a pathetic pony tail at the top of her crown, and the only teeth she had left in her mouth where four sickly sharp canines. The little Nossie in the floral print shirt seemed rather open, even if more than a little wary, of Ryan compared to her peers, probably because she seemed just as young as he was and did not grasp the magnitude of what her seniors were ranting about.

"Um, I don't know the full story," the fellow neonate had explained meekly, "But word floating around is that you were taken from the Sabbat by Ms. Harper. Oh, um, the Sabbat...that's a rival group of Kindred...vampires... if you don't already know. There are not a lot of them around these parts, but, uh, there's enough to cause trouble. Ms. Harper has always taken in childer of different sects and clans. I heard it was because she can't sire any childer of her own...uh...but I can't prove that. I know where the other fledglings she recently adopted are...um, that is...if you want to see them?"

_Happy family…_

_Lines never knotted…_

Ryan tried to follow the bashful Nosferatu's muddled instructions to the rest of the alligator's brood as faithfully as possible. The area was not too far away and it was fairly simple to get to, but the voices weren't cooperating. They kept on bickering amongst themselves, hissing random thoughts and speaking in odd riddles. They lead him down the wrong passageways and had him talk to the wrong people (some of these people turned out to be inanimate objects). They basically had him going in one giant circle, because his final destination was back at the Nosferatu neonate. She looked at him in a mixture of confusion and pity and stated timidly, "Um, I think you took a wrong turn…"

_It's that way…_

_That the high way…_

_Down to Uppington, 1978…_

_Tehehehehe…_

Ryan stared at the Nossie girl, his eyes wild and his face blank. After a long period of awkward silence, a giggle passed through his lips. Then another came forth, followed by a chuckle, then a cackle. The female fledgling slowly began to back away in fear as the man before her slipped into madness, her delicate, withered hand over her gapping mouth. Ryan's laughter was akin to the waling of bloodhound impaled through the stomach by a poison tipped spear, and he began to convulse and head bang uncontrollably. The voices were too much; there were too many of them trying to speak at the same time.

_Forever ours…_

_No escape…_

_Your blessing…_

_Hissss…_

_Your curse…_

_Yessss…_

_Your pancakes…_

_Gahahaha…!_

_Tehehehe…!_

_Hush…_

The spontaneous taunts, rants, and mirth subsided slowly but surely. Ryan wasn't sure how long he had been out of it, or what exactly he did when the madness took over him. When he came to his senses, he fond himself on the ground; he figured he had been rolling around a great deal since he was covered with dirt, slime, and heavens knows what else. Ryan slow rose to his shaky feet, slightly concerned if they were too weak to support him at the moment, and examined his surroundings; he quickly took note that the Nosferatu lass was no longer there.

"Wow, that was…different…"

"What a nut job."

"Shush! He'll here you!"

Ryan stiffened like a button down shirt treated with too much starch when he heard the faint bickering. The whispers had to be coming from real entities rather than mental musing since they sounded nothing like the voices Ryan usually heard, which either hissed, rasped, or cooed. He slowly and carefully scanned the area, still a bit dizzy from his recent hysteria and unsure of what he was looking for.

_Hide and seek…_

_You know the rules…_

Ryan stranded desperately to hear the whispers. They had decreased so dramatically from their original volume that they were practically nonexistent. He forced his restless mind to zone in on the murmuring as best as his own voices would allow, and something suddenly clicked. It was a burning sensation that rippled through his veins and tingled the blood that was there. Then, miraculously, he could hear the whispers once again.

"He's looking for us! He knows we're here!"

"Will you ever grow a spine?"

"Just because I have rational sense doesn't mean you can ridicule me."

"Rational sense? Is that what your calling your paranoia?"

"Stop it!"

"Or what? You'll go cry to Jeramima and have her spank me?"

"Let us go back to our previous affairs before he really finds us."

Ryan heard the scatter of three pairs of feet, and then…

_Ear worm…_

_No more…_

Feeling the affects of whatever came over him diminish, Ryan staggered in place and collapsed one knee, his hands darting to his throbbing head. He felt mentally strained and woozy, but he had gotten the information he wanted. After the ache in his frontal lobe and the mocking laughter in his subconscious subsided, the young Malkavian bumbled back onto his feet. His heightened hearing, however brief it was, had illustrated a picture in his mind of where to go, and he followed this mental map to the three wispy whispers, the exact same map the Nossie girl had drawn not too long ago.

_Tehehehe..._

_Family reuinon..._

_Happy family..._

_Ahhhhh..._

_Yessss..._


End file.
